Iceblood

by James Axler

  "Keep doing it."

  A pair of grim-faced warriors helped Standing Bear to his unsteady feet. Kane saw one of them surreptitiously slip a bone-handled knife into the man's palm. Standing Bear glanced at it, then broke from the crowd and raced at Kane, knife upraised.

  Sky Dog's loud, commanding voice brought Standing Bear to a halt a split second before Kane unleathered his Sin Eater.

  The shaman approached Kane and Rouch. He looked from one to the other dispassionately. "The contest is over. You have lost."

  "I don't think so," Kane said quietly.

  Sky Dog shook his head. "You violated the rules, my friend."

  "I jumped off my pony intentionally," replied Kane. "I unhorsed Standing Bear and released the woman."

  Pursing his lips, Sky Dog said lowly, "Gray Ghost, I am in sympathy with you. You showed great cunning. Yet this was not a contest of cunning, but of skill."

  Kane sighed heavily, wearily. He beckoned the shaman to step closer. Eyebrows crooked quizzically, Sky Dog did so and Kane whispered, "This was a rigged contest, and you know it. This was the second time in my life I've been on horseback. We weren't evenly matched."

  "True," the man admitted.

  "The only way to win a rigged game is to change the rules. Only you can determine whether or not the new rules apply. I suggest — with all respect — that you do so."

  Suspiciously, Sky Dog demanded, "Why? You may have a blaster, but you're only one man."

  Kane smiled slightly, without humor. "That's where you're wrong and where I'm guilty of a little bit of rigging myself."

  Sky Dog's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Just how wrong and how guilty are you?"

  "Only a little on both counts. But that little bit can turn into a whole lot of bloodshed. It's up to you."

  Sky Dog chuckled, but it sounded forced. "Why do I think this is a wasicun bluff?"

  Kane shrugged. "A natural assumption. I'd make it myself, if I were in your place. But in this case, it would be a fatal mistake."

  Sky Dog glanced over toward Standing Bear, who scowled in fury at Kane. "If I decide in your favor, it will be a great dishonor to Standing Bear. I doubt he'll stand for it — pun intended."

  Kane thought a moment, and stated quietly, "I'll apologize to him and offer him compensation. How will that be?"

  Sky Dog nodded. "Since Little Willow doesn't want to stay anyway, he might accept your apology. But his idea of compensation might be more than you're willing to pay."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You'll have to ask him."

  Sky Dog walked toward Standing Bear, raising conciliatory hands. Rouch began to speak, but Kane shushed her into silence. Into the trans-comm, he said, "Stand by."

  Sky Dog spoke earnestly to Standing Bear for nearly a minute. By degrees, the warrior's posture began to relax, and the wrathful flames in his eyes dimmed, though they didn't gutter out altogether.

  At length, Standing Bear grunted a few words, nodded shortly and Sky Dog gestured for Kane to step forward. He faced the warrior as he spoke in a hurried, grim cadence. Sky Dog translated.

  '"I accept you have won Little Willow, though not by fair means. However, since she does not wish to stay with me, it would be wrong of me to keep her against her will. But first a price must be paid. I must buy back my honor before I allow you take her. Do you understand?'"

  Kane nodded, shifting his eyes over to Sky Dog. "Tell him I regret what happened, that I am sorry."

  Sky Dog repeated Kane's words. Standing Bear's lips curved slightly, either in a smile or a moue of distaste. He muttered a question.

  "'Will you pay the price for my honor?'" Sky Dog translated.

  Kane hesitated, then nodded.

  Like the head of a snake with a razor tongue, the knife in Standing Bear's hand flashed up and out.

  4

  The point of the knife inscribed a slanting gash on Kane's left cheek. Standing Bear manipulated the knife so deftly and swiftly, Kane had no opportunity to recoil.

  As he clapped his left hand over the blood trickling from the cut, the Sin Eater sprang reflexively into the palm of his right. It required a conscious effort of will to keep his finger from pressing the trigger.

  The Indians in the immediate vicinity cried out in astonishment at the magical appearance of the blaster in the wasicun's hand. Kane surveyed their ruddy, disconcerted faces, baring his teeth, index finger quivering over the trigger. The old Magistrate's pride, the righteous rage fountained up within him. He grappled with the mad urge to chill the lesser breeds who dared to scorn one of the baron's chosen.

  After a long, tense moment of internal struggle, he barely managed to tamp down the volcanic fury. Staring unblinkingly into Standing Bear's eyes, he made a deliberately slow show of pushing the Sin Eater back into its holster.

  Standing Bear didn't seem intimidated or impressed. He made a pompous-sounding announcement, then hurled the knife to the ground, where it struck point first. Sky Dog said, "Standing Bear has put the mark of the unktomi shunkaha on you… the trickster wolf. From now on, if any our people encounter you, they will know you are cunning like the wolf and just as mean."

  Voice pitched low to disguise his anger, Kane said, "Tell Standing Bear I accept the mark. Tell him also that he has no idea how close he came to being marked himself… right between the eyes."

  Sky Dog chuckled. "He knows. I think he also knows it takes an honorable man to offer up some of his own honor to buy back that of another."

  Standing Bear thrust out his right hand. Kane's eyes flicked from it to the warrior's impassive face. Then he gripped the man's forearm tightly. Standing Bear uttered another imperious proclamation.

  "Take Little Willow," Sky Dog translated. "But treat her better from now on. If she returns to me, I will not let her go again."

  Kane only nodded, feeling blood trickle down his face and along the side of his neck. The wound stung sharply, but he gave no indication of noticing the pain. Absently, he worried about scarring, but since his body already bore so many, he figured one more wouldn't make much difference.

  Standing Bear released his grip, teeth flashing in a broad, slightly mocking grin. He looked past Kane toward Rouch, touched his groin and made a comical frown of disappointment. Rouch averted her gaze. The warrior swaggered into the crowd, and his companions made a path for him, laughing and patting his back.

  Kane didn't realize how much tension he had bottled up until Standing Bear walked away. He released his breath in a prolonged sigh of relief and said into the trans-comm, "Situation green. Stand down."

  "Standing down." Grant's response came not from the trans-comm but from his right and behind him.

  As he heard the words, Kane became aware of a commotion in the onlookers. He whirled around and saw Grant stalking toward him, scowling ferociously at the Indians, who stepped back fearfully. With his dark coat wrapped tightly around him, accentuating his exceptionally broad shoulders, Grant presented the picture of death's black agent. Even Sky Dog's face expressed apprehension. Auerbach and Brigid moved out of the crowd to flank Kane.

  "So," said Sky Dog, "you weren't running a wasicun bluff after all. Is this the only man lying in wait?"

  Kane answered curtly, "You'll understand if I decline to tell you."

  "You don't trust us?" Sky Dog challenged.

  Kane gingerly touched the shallow cut on his cheek, looked at the blood shining wetly on his fingertips and demanded sarcastically "Hell, why wouldn't I? You've shown us such wonderful hospitality so far."

  The shaman only shrugged.

  Grant gave Rouch and Auerbach an appraising stare and inquired mildly, "Are we ready to go home?"

  "I am," Rouch declared firmly.

  Brigid swept a cold glare over her. Rouch boldly met it, tilting her head at a defiant angle.

  Slowly Sky Dog said, "I would like to know more about your people, about your settlement in the Darks. And why Magistrates are up there."

  Kane kept his uneasy s
urprise from registering on his face. "You recognized my blaster."

  "They're called Sin Eaters, as I recall. Which ville are you from?"

  Auerbach blurted in angry fear, "We're not telling you anything!"

  Without looking at him, Kane intoned, "I'm getting awfully sick of telling you to shut up, Auerbach." Addressing Sky Dog, he asked bluntly, "Why?"

  "It may be that we could be of some help to each other. Although you must keep your secrets and we must keep ours, together we may find ourselves engaged in a mutually beneficial situation one day"

  Kane weighed the man's words, assessing their sincerity. He stated, "We've already revealed some of our secrets simply by being here. Let's have an exchange. A secret traded for a secret. By my estimation, you owe us about five or six."

  Sky Dog smiled slyly. "Actually that's far more than we have. We only keep one. But it's big."

  "How so?" asked Grant.

  "Have you wondered why my people have settled so close to the mountains they fear harbor evil spirits?"

  "I haven't, no," Kane admitted.

  "I have, yes," announced Brigid crisply.

  Kane cast her an annoyed, questioning glance.

  "Just because I never mentioned it doesn't mean I never wondered," she said a bit defensively To Sky Dog, she declared, "I've examined the predark maps of this region. The topography hasn't altered all that much since the nukecaust. Only a few miles away is a better water supply and richer grazing land for your animals."

  She gestured to the open terrain around them. "This area isn't substandard, but you could do better."

  Sky Dog looked at her with a new respect. "I can see I should not have judged you by the same standards I applied to Little Willow."

  Rouch's shoulders stiffened, and Kane did his best to repress a grin. Grant just barely managed to turn a chuckle into a throat-clearing sound.

  Sky Dog asked, "Gray Ghost, I will trade you a secret, if you promise to keep it as such. I will show you and only you."

  Kane shook his head. "No deal." He nodded toward Brigid and Grant. "They have to share in it. I can't exclude them."

  "You're not their chief?"

  Brigid snapped, "We have no chief." She paused, then amended her declaration. "We do, sort of. But Kane isn't it."

  Sky Dog pursed his lips contemplatively. "Will you all make the same promise of secrecy?"

  Grant and Brigid nodded.

  "Very well." Sky Dog pointed to Rouch and Auerbach. "Go to your lodges. Your possessions will be returned to you. Wait until we return."

  Auerbach opened to his mouth to voice a protest, but subsided when Kane gave him a warning glare.

  The shaman gestured. "You three will come with me."

  He marched away.

  Grant, Kane and Brigid exchanged brief glances, then fell into step behind him.

  Sky Dog guided them away from the village, toward a line of trees sprouting from the plain floor. Shadowy humps of ridges interrupted the flat terrain. The shaman spoke little as he led Brigid, Kane and Grant toward them. "What you will see is our secret and the source of my people's fear of the Darks," he said cryptically.

  They crossed a crumbling strip of blacktop road, the ancient two-lane highway that had once twisted its way up through the Bitterroot Range. Aspens, pines and high grasses grew in a tangle on the other side of it.

  At the bottom of a shallow slope, a tall tripod shape, like a tepee without its hide coverings, rose from the ground. Colorful feathers decorated the wooden struts and fluttered in the breeze. Unidentifiable bits of rusty metal dangled from rawhide thongs. Hanging from the point where the main braces intersected was a brown human skull with the jawbone missing. As they passed it, they saw a bullet hole perforating its right side. Almost the entire left side of the cranium had been shot away.

  Kane asked, "What's this? A warning or a signpost?"

  "A bit of both," said Sky Dog. "It has been there for generations. Maintaining it is part of my spiritual responsibilities."

  "The skull has been there for a very long time," Brigid observed.

  "Four generations at least," Sky Dog agreed. "It once sat on the shoulders of a wasicun interloper. According to legend, after killing many of our warriors, he shot himself rather than fall into my people's hands. He fought bravely, but took the coward's path in the end."

  "What would have happened if he'd surrendered?" Grant inquired.

  "Death by slow torture, probably" the shaman answered. "In that case," said Kane, "I'd say he showed good sense, not cowardice."

  Sky Dog's response to Kane's opinion was a shrug, as if the matter was of little importance.

  The four people strode deeper into the wood. Kane realized that no birds sang from the boughs of the trees, and tension began knotting in his stomach. He didn't suspect the shaman was leading them into a trap. Killing them would have been much easier back in the village, if that were his intent. He and Baptiste exchanged uneasy glances. The shade under the towering trees deepened almost to dusk, and anything could be hiding in the shadows.

  Sky Dog showed no apprehension as he walked a more or less straight route through the closely growing trees along a faint path that none of them would have noticed as such if they hadn't been following him. Kane estimated they had walked some seventy yards from the roadbed when Sky Dog came to a halt.

  At first glance, they stood in a very small, crescent-shaped clearing, with a tall tangle of bushes, shrubs and foliage making up the inner curve. Kane's eyes picked out tree stumps protruding only a few inches above the ground.

  Sky Dog gestured. "My people's secret."

  Brigid, Grant and Kane followed the man's gesture and saw only the snarl of overgrowth. Sky Dog stepped to it, thrust his arms into the tangled vines and leaves and pulled. He lifted away a large section of a carefully camouflaged shelter made of cross-braced tree limbs interlaced with grasses, weeds and shrubs. The forepart came away in three large pieces. Inside they saw the outline of a long, bulky shape which at first glance was unrecognizable.

  Sky Dog waved them over as he stepped inside the shelter. A huge vehicle lay nestled within. The armor plate sheathing the chassis was rust pitted, but they saw how its dark hull bristled with machine-gun blisters and rocket pods, and was perforated by weapons ports. It crouched on flat metal tracks, like a petrified prehistoric beast of prey.

  Grant recognized it first. "An old mobile army command post," he announced, trying not to sound impressed. "Predark model, but modified and retooled into a war wag."

  Kane's eyes gave it a slow inspection. He gauged its length at around forty feet and its weight at about fifty tons. The fixed, double-thickness steel plates showed deep scoring in places, where armor-piercing rounds had almost penetrated. The juggernaut had seen a lot of action in its day.

  He moved to the front, standing on his toes to peer into the cockpit. Since it was eight feet off the ground, all he saw was the bottom portion of a dusty, cracked windscreen. "Is it operational?"

  Sky Dog shrugged. "I don't know about the weapons. The wag itself has been out of fuel for a very long time, since my grandfather's day or before."

  "Where did you find it?" Brigid asked.

  The shaman swept a hand in the general direction of the Bitterroot Range. "According to tribal history, it was found at the foothills. Wasicun invaders were inside of it. One group, led by a one-eyed man, went to the plateau of the fog. They never returned."

  "Plateau of the fog?" Grant repeated skeptically. "What's that?"

  "Our legends speak of a plateau in the Darks cloaked in fog… a mist which killed, rending men apart as if with claws and fangs."

  Sky Dog rapped the hull of the vehicle. "The second group of invaders rode in the belly of this steel beast. It carried them down the mountain, then it stopped to move no more. When the wasicun left it, my people fell on them. The machine was hauled here and hidden, lest other wasicun try to breathe new life into it."

  Kane walked to the rear and opened a
hatch, the rust-stiff hinges and springs squealing loudly. "Do you mind if we look inside?"

  "I brought you here so you could do so," Sky Dog replied.

  Kane, Grant and Brigid clambered aboard. The stale air within carried a faint whiff of cordite mixed with the odor of fuel and grease. They moved down the narrow, gratefloored passageway checking the tiny, cramped sleeping quarters. In one of them, Brigid found a thick notebook. Its plastic covers were torn, and leaves of paper fell out of it. Empty cargo compartments took up most of the interior space. Inside of small side alcoves, they found and inspected the weapons emplacements.

  The four-barrel 12.7 mm machine guns were in poor shape, all the moving parts frozen by neglect and time. Grant commented, "Nothing that a couple of days of oiling, cleaning and sanding couldn't fix."

  They found sealed crates of many different calibers of ammo and even a few LAW rockets. There were a number of empty gun racks bolted to the walls. In the control compartment, they inspected the instrument panels and were impressed by the array of panels, dials, screens and circuit breakers.

  Grant grunted in disapproval, stooping over to inspect the underside of a panel. "The controls were originally designed to be linked by computers. Looks like whoever found this thing bypassed them, rerouting all the circuits to manual-override boards."

  Kane nodded, standing between the gimballed driver's and codriver's chairs. He bent down to gaze out the windscreen. The thick bulletproof glass bore ancient starring patterns from projectiles. "This is a hell of a lot of firepower for the Indians to have."

  "It's a hell of a lot of firepower for anybody to have," Brigid murmured, pushing past Kane to sit down in the driver's seat. Absently, she thumbed through the notebook.

  "What've you got there, Baptiste?" he asked.

  "Looks like a log. Nothing much in it but handwritten fuel-consumption reports, weapons and repair status. Here's the only thing of a personal nature."

  She handed him a square of coarse wood-pulp paper. The edges were frayed, and it was stained with machine oil and the bottom half bore a smear that looked like either dried ketchup or blood. The hand-printed words on it were faded to almost illegibility. Kane had to lean toward the light peeping in through the port in order to read it.